The Kind Gentleman

He always came alone;

Yet the brightness shone,

Of calm, of peace,

On his face – a skinny bone.

Relieved us from tense,

With a smile – no pretence:

Genuine and pure,

A heart so cleansed.

Few words to say,

Carefully chosen were they,

Creating a mist,

Innocent as a child’s play.

The serenity in his eyes,

As God’s own voice !

Calming us all,

Like some key operated toys.

That was faith in him,

That made us believe Kim.

And he only talked about us,

Making our darkness dim.

One day he didn’t come:

So I asked my mum.

To which She replied,

“May death had put up its thumb!”

Then I heard it in talks,

From all around the folks,

Death indeed come to him,

With its dark black cloaks.

One for itself as it wore,

Other for old Kim it store.

And took him away –

The kind gentleman from a war.

Few people began to unfurl,

About the oyster of the old pearl.

Whether he was truly so good,

Or had a past with a bad curl ?

I pondered for some moments,

Over the thoughts on the comments;

About dishevelled image

Of the old man now dormant.

After a few seconds of abide,

I then realized,

I had a choice,

On which thought to ride.

Whatever he had been,

In his youth, in his teen,

He must have sorted it,

Where in future to be seen..

As I cherish him now,

And his gentle bow,

I just see,

The kind gentleman in thou.


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